I'm Just Tired
by ChameleonCircuit
Summary: Set directly after Know It All (S18E15). Barba's reaction to what's going on around him, his job, his exhaustion, and Liv being there for him, like always. Rated K to be safe.


A/N: Hey guys, this is just a small one-shot. Apparently I like writing Barba miserable in some way. Not entirely sure why (projectingggg). That scene at the end of 'Know It All' _still_ really gets me. He just looks so damn sad as he turns away. He's sad in the whole episode. And he looked so tired around that time. And tbh, I write a little from experience, and I know just how much a job can eat away at you, even when you really love what you do.

Sorry if he seems out of character!

All bolded text is dialogue from the actual show.

* * *

" **I love this job. Oh, I really do. But sometimes…"**

" **Oh, I know."**

And he knew she knew. Rafael Barba knew Olivia Benson knew exactly how he felt. Both their jobs were their lives and they loved doing what they were doing, fighting for people whose lives are like their past, fighting for justice. But sometimes it was too much. Sometimes the pain and the exhaustion was too much, and it all just felt useless.

He had contemplated resigning so many times. He had enough money to retire early, but he also knew he could move into less stressful positions that he was over-qualified for and still make a decent living. But then what would be the point?

What would be the point in showing up every day, doing the same old boring thing, and the only reward was that you got to go home on time and not be called in on your days off? What would be the point without the satisfaction of knowing you were _actually_ making a difference?

He looked back at her, tears fighting to make their way known as she put her heart over her chest.

He sucked in a deep breath and turned back around to face his destiny. And, truth be told, he wasn't sure what he wanted from the outcome.

* * *

"Hey. How'd it go?"

Rafael should have known Liv would find him. She always did, no matter which bar he picked. He supposed that, despite how much he tried to be random and undetectable, she was a cop and his actions were familiar now - predictable.

He sighed heavily into his drink, staring at the damp wood.

"One week suspension. I got off easy."

"Then why do you sound so miserable about it?"

Rafael chuckled softly, but there wasn't really any humour in it. When she said nothing, he just shrugged his shoulders, still unable to look at her.

"Rafael, talk to me. Did something else happen?" Liv's concern made his heart flutter slightly.

"No, mi querido," he responded softly, his tired eyes meeting hers at last. "Nothing else happened."

His assurance didn't seem to ease her concern at all, and he felt her grasp his shoulder lightly as he turned back to his drink.

"I'm just tired, Olivia," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly on her name. "I think a part of me is disappointed I didn't lose my job."

Saying it out loud sounded ridiculous, and he grimaced slightly as she sat down next to him, trying to make eye contact again.

"I'm not really, of course," he said, purposely cutting her off as she was about to speak. "I'm nothing without this job."

He ran his finger around the rim of his glass before downing the rest of it in one go and standing up.

"Rafael."

"Liv…." he looked at her with pleading eyes, but she reached out and pulled him back down anyway.

"You are so much more than this job, Rafael Barba. You're an amazing friend, a loving son, and a very, very clever man."

He wanted to protest, but that would be too revealing, so he just sat and listened, trying not to sound too sceptical.

"I'd like to think that, even without this job, we'd still be friends. You're someone I've come to rely on, not just at work, but in life. You fight for me. I see it every day, in and out of the courtroom. You're always in my corner. You hide behind your perfect suits and your sharp words and wit, but you've not once failed to be there when I've needed you. Or when any of the squad has needed you, for that matter."

Rafael looked down at his hands, shame creeping over him as he felt the wetness in his eyes.

"I'm just so damn tired," he whispered.

"I know," she whispered back, taking both of his fidgeting hands in hers. "Rafael, look at me."

He shook his head, knowing it was a childish, futile act of defiance. He really didn't want her to know just how ready he was to give up. He'd already revealed too much.

He felt her hand brush his cheek gently and he leant into the touch, sucking in a shaky breath.

"This is your fault," he was careful to make sure there was no accusation in his voice, though he spoke so softly he wasn't sure she'd hear the traces humour in his voice.

When he heard her breathe out a laugh, he felt himself smile a little.

"How do you figure that, then?"

"I never would have cared half as much if it weren't for you and your stupidly big heart."

His voice shook and he knew his tone no longer sounded joking. When she didn't respond he felt guilt creep in. He'd intended to keep the accusation light, but he felt so beaten down and he knew it was coming across wrong.

She squeezed his hand and attempted to tilt his face towards her, but he pulled himself away.

"I think your heart is just as big as mine, if not bigger," she whispered softly. So softly that he had to force himself to look at her to be sure she was actually talking. "You just hide it far better than I ever can."

He had to bite his bottom lip to stop it from trembling, and he tried to look away from her, but she caught his face in her hands, her eyes full of love and compassion. He knew he just needed a good night sleep, and after his week off he'd be back to his usual, fiery self, wondering why he'd ever wanted to leave in the first place. But right now, that reality felt so far away.

Rafael hated anyone seeing him like this, even his mother. But somehow, despite how embarrassed he felt, he also felt entirely safe showing this side of himself to Liv. This fragile, broken thing he kept inside never resurfaced in company, and yet here she was, holding his face in her hands as he bit back tears.

He leant in and, without really thinking, kissed her gently on the cheek before standing up to put his coat back on.

"Walk with me? I'm not quite ready to go home yet," he asked quietly, glad his voice no longer shook.

She nodded, and as they left, she slipped her hand into his, standing close to him as they walked, and he realised he couldn't imagine a life where they weren't fighting together, side by side.


End file.
